


happiness

by maiselocked



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Gender-neutral Reader, M/M, Mycroft Feels, Mycroft Holmes Has Feelings, Mycroft is a Softie, POV Mycroft Holmes, Sweet, Thunderstorms, no pronouns, this is pure fluff and sweetness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:47:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25835230
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maiselocked/pseuds/maiselocked
Summary: in which mycroft holmes has finally found love and peace in you.
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Reader, Mycroft Holmes/You
Comments: 2
Kudos: 93





	happiness

**Author's Note:**

> this is so sweet i love this story i want to live in this story i want this life give me this life i am jealous of y/n

There are days when Mycroft misses living in London. Sometimes he misses the power his “minor” position in the British government gave him. Other times he misses always looking out for his brother no matter how much he tries to tell himself he doesn’t. There’s been a few occasions when he wonders if he’ll end up moving back. Now is not one of those times. 

It’s seven in the evening and after a late trip to a local market to pick some things up for a dinner he was going to cook later, his sleek, black car makes its way up the private driveway that leads to his new home. Pellets of rain are hitting the windows and the wipers are going full speed during the random but very torrential storm. 

Thunder cracks from a distance and lightning follows soon after. He’s a little nervous about the power going out but he also knows that there’s a cabinet full of candles, flashlights, blankets, and a generator in the basement. Never can be too prepared. 

The drive to his house is one that’s long but worth it. At the end of the driveway is a dark blue, Victorian style home nestled a few 2,000 feet from the edge of a cliff overlooking an expansive sea with the closest neighbor being about a ½ mile away. Mycroft was a bit worried about the location but couldn’t pass up such a beautiful and perfect home. The area wasn’t prone to hurricanes or other water-related natural disasters and so with the _large_ amount of money saved for his retirement, he bought it (and still has a lot to spare). 

Soon, the car pulls in front of the home and Mycroft shuts it off. He grabs his umbrella, the bag from the market, and hurries to get inside. He doesn’t run but instead briskly walks to the front door where he unlocks it and steps inside. 

The interior of the home is just as marvelous as the exterior. It resembles his home in London with the hardwood floors, vintage sofas, and dark walls but has little hints of color and personality that he was missing in his old home. And that is all thanks to you. 

Ah, you. You were the light, the spark, the love he thought he would never find in his life. He wasn’t the Ice-man, truly. Deep down, he always wondered if someone was out there for him. Late at night when he would finally lay down to bed, he’d think about holding someone in his arms and waking up to a brilliant smile and feeling so deliriously happy. He would never search for love but if it were to present itself to him, he’d be willing to adapt and consider it. 

It was a Sunday afternoon at 221B when John Watson introduced you as his cousin to Mycroft Holmes that he felt like he had finally found it. 

Mycroft slipped off his shoes and replaced them with a comfortable pair of slippers and placed his umbrella in its holder. He carried the bag of groceries to the kitchen and started to place them in their respective spots. 

“Myc? Are you home?” Mycroft smiled. _Myc._ It made his heart swell. He loved hearing you call his name but found it so incredibly endearing that you had your own nickname for him. He’d likely yell at anyone else for doing such a thing but he was so overwhelmed with love that it was hard for him not to blush just the tiniest bit. 

“I’m home, dear!” He called out even though he didn’t know where you were. 

Before searching for you, he climbed the stairs and went into your shared bedroom then into the closet where he slipped off the suit jacket, waistcoat, and tie. The top two buttons of the shirt underneath came undone and he rolled up the sleeves. He stood in the mirror for a moment, looking at himself. 

He had begun to like what he saw in the mirror. Since being with you, his insecurities have been less of a problem for himself. He didn’t exercise to be or feel skinnier anymore. Now he just did it to stay healthy for you. In the mirror he saw a relaxed, happy, loved man. 

Over the rain and thunder, he didn’t hear your quiet footfalls come up the stairs and into the bedroom. You watched as Mycroft smiled at himself in the mirror and undid another button of his shirt and loosened from where it was tucked into his trousers. “I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you straightforwardly,” Mycroft turned at the sound of your voice, “without complexities or pride; so I love you because I know no other way that this: where I does not exist, nor you, so close that your hand on my chest is my hand, so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.” 

“Pablo Neruda?” He asks when he comes over to you. 

“I was reading my poetry book on the back porch before you pulled in,” you answer. He holds your hands so gently like they might break and leans in to kiss you. You smile into the kiss, feeling so at peace in your current position. 

“The one Molly gifted you three years ago or the book you’ve had since your twentieth birthday?” 

“Twentieth birthday.” 

He gives you one of those special smiles that were reserved for you and only you. Without any hesitation, you wrap your arms around his neck in a hug that he returns by wrapping his own around your waist. The two of you stayed like that for a minute before you gasped and withdrew from his embrace. 

“Come outside onto the porch with me. It’s beautiful and I brought out the gray blanket, the really warm and fuzzy one y’know, and the waves and thunder are so nice,” you ramble on with excitement and Mycroft lets you go until you finish. 

“What about dinner?” He asks. 

“Dinner can wait!” You don’t wait for a response before rushing out the room and down the steps back to where you were at a few moments ago. 

Mycroft follows you out to the large back porch of the house that has a perfect view of the water below. Waves are being thrown against the shore and the clouds are a dark shade of gray. A loud boom of thunder slightly shakes the house and soon after a large strike of lightning flashes across the sky in the far distance. 

There on a pulled out daybed, you’re curled up in a large blanket, completely entranced in the view before you. Mycroft joins you on the daybed and sits close to you. The two of you sit in a comfortable silence for a while. 

While Mycroft sometimes misses the thrill of his London life, he would take this over it _anytime_. He was living in a beautiful home that was overlooking a beautiful ocean. He had little to no stress in his life. And he had his first and only love curled up next to him. 

When Mycroft told Sherlock that he was moving away from London and coming out to the countryside with you, Sherlock thought he was an idiot. He asked why Mycroft was moving away after so many years of being an almighty, powerful, cold, distant government leader and Mycroft responded within seconds. 

“Y/N. I want to start my own life with Y/N.” 

You looked up to Mycroft who was deep in thought. Soon, he felt eyes on him and he looked down at you bashfully. 

“What are you thinking about?” You asked him. 

“I suppose I’m just very happy here.” 

Your face brightened up with happiness. “I’m happy here too.” 

The two of you shared another kiss before Mycroft stood up and extended his hand out to you. “Let’s go make some dinner, love.”


End file.
